Pages

Monday, December 7, 2015

Release Day Blitz: Sojourn by Cecilia London

BLURB

Haunted by her
experience at The Fed, Caroline tries to create a new identity. A new present,
a new future. She can’t escape the memories that dog her when she least expects
it, leaving her mired in a depression that she finds difficult to escape.
Caroline needs to regain her physical and mental strength if she intends on
surviving the journey to find the elusive rebellion. But that’s easier said
than done with the ghosts of the past constantly whispering in her ear.

The road is long and dangerous, and there are no
guarantees. She and her companions have no idea what they will find when they
arrive at their destination. And what they finally discover may change
everything.

Part Three of a Six Part Saga. Sojourn (approximately
89,000 words) is not a standalone and must be read after the first two books in
the series. Ends in a cliffhanger. For readers 18+. This book contains adult
situations including explicit sex and violence.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cecilia is my pen name.
I may or may not live in San Antonio, Texas. I've been known to apply quotes
from 'The Simpsons' to everyday life. I live for baseball season.

EXCERPT 1.

She slid the
key in the lock and opened the box. A set of five books lay inside, arranged in
order. She stared at the binding. “Decameron
de Bocace,” she read.

Caroline was
tempted to smack him but contained herself. She examined the books closer.
“This set is exceptionally old.”

“1757, I
believe. One of the more valuable 18th century editions.”

It would have
been too easy for him to pick up a paperback copy from a normal bookstore. “Why
French?”

“You are fluent,” he pointed out.

As if the
classics weren’t challenging enough in English. “You bought me Boccaccio in a
foreign language?”

“I do love
how you enjoy the oldies,” Jack said.

“The Decameron is more than an oldie.
It’s one of my favorite books.”

“I know.” He
smirked. “I read that interview you did for Philadelphia
magazine.”

“You set up
that interview,” Caroline said.

“I remember.
Did you tell them that you only mentioned that book so you could sound
intellectual?”

She very
rarely spouted off about that sort of thing but they’d asked about it and she’d
answered. She’d also mentioned her favorite childhood reads and a host of
dystopian tales, but Jack had clearly forgotten that part. “It’s a wonderful
example of medieval literature. Hush up.”

He glanced at
her nervously. “What do you think?”

Was he
worried that she would be disappointed in such an incredible gift? “Do I even
want to know how much you spent on this?”

“I’m not
going to tell you,” he said. “Not without a little bit of prodding or a lot of
sexual favors.”

She could
work on that later. The book set was in near perfect condition for its age.
“This is beautiful,” Caroline said.

“Damn right.”
She leaned in to kiss him, long and hard. A gift like this deserved more than a
peck. “Thank you, darling.”

“Read it to
me,” Jack said.

He didn’t
speak French. That request made no sense. “What?”

“Read it to
me,” he repeated.

Maybe she’d
misheard him. She was thoroughly confused. “In French?”

He moved
behind her and leaned toward her ear. “Bend over the desk and read it to me,”
he whispered, taking one of the volumes and carefully turning the pages to
where a bookmark marked the spot.

Caroline
scanned the words, swallowing hard. She recognized the tale immediately.
Rustico and Alibech in the desert. The randy monk exposing himself to the
curious virgin and seducing her. Possibly one of the most salacious tales in
the entire book. “You want me to read this to you?”

“Yes,” he
said. “If you promise to translate it correctly and are very, very good, you
might even get a reward.” He slid his hand under her skirt. “You can do that,
right?”

EXCERPT 2.

A wide, flat box on the
table next to the door. Jack expected her to open it automatically after years
of them hemming and hawing and flirting and flaking. Playing their little games
that ended with them in a tangle on the floor or in the bathroom or in their
bed. They usually started against the wall but sometimes gravity got the best
of them. This year would be different. Their passion tempered, their minds
scattered.

Caroline gasped when she
opened the box. Freshwater pearls. Jack had given her a different necklace
every year. Whatever jewels he could think of, and as grandiose as possible.
She wondered why he’d done it when so much was in flux. Whether it would even
matter as time went on. All those presents, all those gestures, all those
expensive purchases. Caroline wondered if they’d all someday disappear.

Such talk was silly. Nothing
would happen. Life would go on as it always had. The excesses of the Santos
Administration couldn’t last forever. All her worrying and all their planning
wouldn’t matter and everything would return to normal. Just like Jack had said.

She stared down at the box.
At the brilliant, almost perfectly shaped orbs catching the light. She knew
better than to ask. They were expensive as hell. One more pretty prize to add
to her collection. One more present from a man whose grand gestures grew with
each passing holiday. Caroline was determined to appreciate the gift, though
she had her reservations.

“You didn’t have to do
this,” she whispered.

He took the box out of her
hand, carefully removing the necklace. “It’s tradition.”

They didn’t have many but he
made sure to observe them all. “Does any of that matter anymore?”

“It matters to me.” Jack
placed the pearls around her neck and kissed her softly. “Did you know that no
two pearls are alike? Each one is completely unique, like a snowflake. The
ancient Romans only allowed their emperor to wear them. They were that
valuable. That precious.” He kissed her again. “Like you.”

She blinked and tried to
look away from him, but he tipped her chin up. He didn’t stroke her cheek,
didn’t kiss her, didn’t do any of the things that he did on their Christmas
nights. Her eyes were drawn to his and for the first time in months she looked
at him. Really looked at him.

They’d spend their days
hustling around, doing whatever they could to keep themselves occupied. There
were times when Caroline would barely see him. How often did they study each
other? They had very few emotions or thoughts left unsaid but Caroline very
rarely made the effort to focus on him. On his features. The way his eyes
crinkled when he smiled, or the sound of his laugh. The way his hair would fall
into his face when he was working late at night. The way he’d stare at her when
he thought she wasn’t looking.

He was starting to look his
age. They both were. Stress could destroy the body in a way that nothing else
could. But she didn’t care. It didn’t matter whether Jack was young or old.
Whether he was healthy or not. Whether he was angry or sad, joyful or
indifferent. He was hers and always would be.

The ballroom remained silent
save for the ticking of a clock. Neither one of them moved. The world ceased to
exist. They were alone but they were together, and that was all that mattered.
They stood there, their eyes locked together, until Jack lowered his gaze. The
briefest of moments passed before he took her in his arms again.

“You are my everything,
Caroline. My world, my life, the reason I exist. We’re going to get through
this. I promise.”

How could he say that? She
could sense that things were changing, that they soon might spiral out of
control and neither one of them would be able to stop spinning. She was
terrified to verbalize what she was thinking but said it anyway, knowing it
would upset him. Caroline hated that her declining mood might ruin Christmas.

“I’m not sure I can believe
you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he
said. “I can believe enough for both of us.”

EXCERPT 3.

“Gabe tells
me you’re from around here,” he said. “Suppose I should have figured that out.
But I don’t know a whole lot about you aside from what’s happened recently.”

Caroline took
another gulp of her now lukewarm hot chocolate. Kudos to Gig for very subtly
changing the subject. “I grew up in the northwest suburbs. Unincorporated
Deerfield, so pretty much Buffalo Grove.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

Talking about
the distant past was much easier than thinking about the last few years.
“Stevenson.”

“Got yourself
a high class education, then.”

That was one
way to look at it. Her high school usually ranked as one of the best in the
country. Or it had. She didn’t know what the public schools were like now. “I
guess so. My parents lived in a small house in a very modest subdivision. They
paid a shit ton in taxes to make sure I went to a good school.”

“Looks like
it paid off.”

Caroline
looked around the balcony, her expression more than a little ironic. “Yes,
because my life is so wonderful now.”

“A little.
It’s funny how the things that used to matter to you seem pretty insignificant
as time passes.” Caroline looked toward Wrigley. South of Gig’s place, past
apartment buildings, bars, and restaurants, many of which were shuttered
closed. She couldn’t see the stadium but knew exactly where it was.

She and the
guys had watched some NBA games during her recovery. Professional sports were
an effective distraction from the nation’s woes. “Does Major League Baseball
still exist?” she asked.

Gig shrugged.
“I suppose. The teams from California and Texas pulled out. I hear they’re
playing in their own leagues with different players. The Blue Jays withdrew out
of solidarity. Canada doesn’t seem too happy with Santos right now.”

“Are they
planning on doing anything?”

“Not so far
as I’ve heard. But who knows? Maybe the rebellion is plotting with
international forces.”

He wasn’t as
plugged in as she’d assumed. Another step backwards. She hoped he knew what he
was doing when it came to getting them to California. “Maybe,” she whispered.

“You miss
this place,” Gig said. It wasn’t a question.

“I do,”
Caroline said. “I loved Maryland and D.C., even Pennsylvania in its own way.
But my heart is here. The air feels different here. My spirit feels different.
Does that make sense?”

“I understand
completely,” he said. “This city is my soul. It’ll be hard to leave.”

Gig looked
quite unhappy at the prospect. He probably felt the same way she did. His home
wasn’t his home anymore.

“It’s not
like any of that matters,” she said. “Everything has been altered. I’m not safe
anyplace, no matter where I think I might belong. Maybe I don’t belong
anywhere.”

“Or maybe
that’s why we need to get our asses to California,” he said.

A newly
empowering thought. She’d almost forgotten why they’d traveled to Chicago in
the first place. “When are we going to leave?”

“We’ll wait a
bit, make sure we’ve got a clear path. Then we’ll motor down to Oklahoma.” He
nodded toward the door. “We’ll talk about it in greater detail with the guys
tomorrow.”

She wasn’t
overjoyed at the idea of that journey. Bad things happened to friends who
traveled by automobile. Another subject change seemed in order, one that Gig
seemed to desire anyway.